


Blood Red

by Tangledupandsideways



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drama, Gen, Post-Episode: s05e15, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2019-05-30 23:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangledupandsideways/pseuds/Tangledupandsideways
Summary: This time, wine cannot take away Alicia's pain(Post 5x15, some swearing)X-posted to FFN





	Blood Red

All she saw was red. Blood red liquid pooled in her glass. Usually each bitter pull would take some of the bitterness out of her, calm her just a little bit more. Today, it unnerved her. She felt a little sick, actually, nausea swirling up into her throat and her head spinning wildly as she reached out for something to ground her. Cold, shaking fingers gripped the edge of the counter so hard they turned white. 

It was too much, too fucking much.

She hadn't been there when it had happened. At first, she thought that was a good thing. She never would have gotten over the sight. But not having seen what happened, not knowing, it just left too many awful scenarios to play in her head.

She saw only red. Blood red liquid seeping out of his chest, spreading colour over the white of the button-down shirt she was sure he would be wearing under his suit. She saw it pooling around him, encircling his torso. The colour which was so representative of pain, the colour of fire, which burned and destroyed, destroyed everything it touched.

It was quite like her in that way. It was as if everything she wanted slipped away, everyone she loved hurt her, everything she built fell to pieces. 

There was nothing but red. She was with him now, kneeling down beside him as the hem of her grey dress became coloured, pressing down on his gaping wound. She watched the blood seeping between her fingers, her hands taunting her. Blood on her hands, blood on her hands. Had she somehow caused this? Was this the universe's way of punishing her?

There was an awful noise, something between a tearful cry and a painful moan. She heard it once, twice, three times before she realised that it was coming from her own mouth.

But there was too much red. There was too much liquid surrounding her. He was slipping, she knew it. She had to do something, _say_ something.

And they echoed in her head, those words she never said, over and over. He'd never know, not now. He couldn't hear them even if she screamed them at the top of her voice, straining every cell in her body. He couldn't hear them even if she whispered them directly in his ear. He would never fucking know. No matter what she did, he wouldn't know. And so she cursed herself for having buried them so deep, so wretchedly into her heart that if they were removed, forced up through her mouth, it would've bled. It would've hurt. It would leave her so vulnerable to even more pain. It would change everything, irrevocably. It would make everything real.

But reality was complicated while delusion was so simple. She could find herself at home in his arms and forget every damn thing that had ever caused her pain. But now, now he _was_ her pain.

She picked up the glass and threw it with all the strength she could muster. She watched as it smashed against the wall, liquid, blood red liquid pooling on the tile, shards of glass in the midst. And she knew she had deceived herself for far too long.

Numbly, she made her way to her liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of scotch. She twisted it open, drinking it straight from the bottle. Its warmth almost calmed her, almost.

"I love Will Gardner," she said it quietly at first, testing its weight on her tongue.

"I love Will Garner," she repeated.

This time, sobs came with it, her shoulders heaving with the weight of her agony. Her eyes burned and she could hardly breathe around the lump that had formed in her throat.

Oh, how she had wished she'd been brave enough to tell him those three little words before everything began to taste metallic, before everything was painted blood-red, before she realised that now she would never get the chance. 


End file.
